‘Hello! Please lower the volume or use earphones,’ I asked the man on the train, watching a YouTube video. The discussion on the financial upheaval in the Indian share market by the panellists in the video reached the aisle seat, where I was seated, from the window seat, just like the line moving sideways on a line chart, indicating a sideways trend of a stock.
Apparently, my words didn’t register in his preoccupied ears. So I gesticulated like a flight attendant, synchronizing my hand movements with the words I repeated in my head. Eventually, the window-seat man noticed it and instantly complied, though unapologetically.
But… but my request was met only to be discarded 10-12 minutes later. A display of sheer entitlement! Annoyed by his inconsiderate demeanour, I decided to start a protest on the train, since sadad pe faisla wasn’t possible then. I put aside my book and unlocked my phone to play a YouTube video.
But before deciding, I wanted to ask the elderly lady in the middle seat for consent. Perturbed by her neighbour, I shared her frustration at the disregard for her democratic right. After agreeing upon the issue at hand, I watched the news loud enough to disrupt the window-seat man’s attention. I even leaned forward to amplify the effect.
Lo and behold! The window-seat man was as dismissive of me as the BJP government was toward the CJP and its first-ever protest.
Having failed as a pressure group, unlike the CJP, which allegedly succeeded in its first protest, I ended my protest, feeling dejected and resumed reading. My YouTube protest, supported only by the elderly lady, fizzled out as soon as it began, much like the E20 fuel protest; even so, I didn’t have enough fuel in my body to fight for my democratic right to peaceful travelling. And how many could I fight against?
Because it wasn’t just the window-seat man; another man, who had moved to a vacant window seat with an unoccupied aisle chair, tangentially from me, was watching one of those viral videos with a wheezing laugh track like the whistle of a kettle. Even his raspy laughter, which shook his whole body, matched the artificial wheeze so well.
Interestingly, every time he watched a reel, he seemed to follow a particular pattern: first, he roared with laughter; then he called out to his wife; and lastly, he confirmed with her whether she had watched the reel he was watching.
Changing a seat, I realized, can sometimes be as challenging as attempting a regime change
Irked, I shifted my focus to the little child in the front seat who behaved as little children are expected to behave — talkative and playful. Her constant chatter seemed more pleasant amidst the undemocratic chaos all around.
*****
Friend: ‘Rumbling’ or ‘Crumbling’ democracy?
Me: Suit yourself.
